Love Her
by Queen-morganalefay
Summary: An AU fic. What if Rogue was a heartless mercenary? Would she kill anyone, just for money, or would someone get through? A songfic to Love Her by Seether. Rating for violence, death, language, ect.
1. Prelude

Author's Note: Long, long ago…(okay, two months ago, so sue me) I came up with an idea for this AU fic based on Rogue while listening to _Love Her_ by Seether. The song, technically, is about a prostitute, but rest assured I did not make Rogue a prostitute. You'll have to read the story to find out about it, naturally, but this is just the prelude, and it's pretty short compared to what an actual chapter would be. And I'm typing this on my computer, instead of writing it first and then typing it onto my computer, so this is mainly off the top of my head stuff based off a concept. Don't have a clue how long this story will be, I only know the beginning and end. Stay with me, people.

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Xmen:Evo. If I did, it would still be on the air, and they wouldn't have stopped it before I found out what Apocalypse's power was. BUT we will never know. Of course, me and my friends think it's that he can destroy a world with the point of a finger and he makes a mean soufflé. I also don't own _Love Her _by Seether.

* * *

_**I met a girl who hated the world

* * *

**_

Someone needed to know. Someone needed to be told. I don't know who is reading this, but even as I do my best to try and explain, you cannot come close to understanding.

Imagine this: a girl with auburn hair streaked with white toward the front, short, cold gray eyes set far into her face, pale skin and lips full, body curved and lean, perfect for fighting. Imagine a girl who has no morals, no respect for human life. Imagine a girl who sees the world for what it is: a cold and dark place, devoid of kindness and happiness, full of cruelty and misery. Imagine a girl who the world has wronged, and she wrecks vengeance upon all, so long as a dollar lies in her hand at the end of the day for her services. Imagine a girl whose paycheck is a gun, and employer is anyone who schemes. Imagine a girl who is everything everyone else could never be: cold, cruel, and ruthless. Imagine all of this, and you will not even begin to come close to the memory I hold.

I still remember her. Every aspect of her body, every lock of her hair. I still remember her eyes, that startling gray, so cold and heartless on the surface, so hard to see deeper. I still remember her.

I still remember the first day we met. I still remember the first time she ever let me in. I remember everything. She haunts me…I know she'll never let me forget.

Things could have been different. It could have ended different; we could have had a fairy tale ending. We could have been happy. She could have been happy. But that's not the way things worked out. And there's no point in looking into the past and changing things. I wouldn't change a moment.

She was untouchable, cold, and heartless. She could kill you without a second thought, hunt you without running out of breath, hurt you only with a look. She could haunt your dreams without you ever having seen her face; you could hear her voice without ever having met her. She was a legend, infamous, a villainess, a hero. She was the world, the sun, the moon, but she was treated like she was nothing, and that's the way she thought of herself. Beauty was something she possessed that I could never convince her of.

People misinterpreted her. People wanted to stone her just for breathing, but they never really knew her. To know her was to love her, and to love her was more dangerous than life itself. It was a love beyond love, to know and understand her, and I think I got close…I think I almost made it to that…I may never know.

But I still visit her, everyday, because I still remember her, and I think about her every day. I think about everything she ever said. I think about the one time I saw her smile, instead of that cold smirk she normally wore. I think about what used to be. Because I remember her. And I also remember her as she could have been.

Are you still listening? Because someone needed to be told. Someone needed to know. And in case you haven't gotten yet, I'll repeat myself.

Imagine a guy that was in love with this girl. Imagine a guy that wanted to help her. Imagine a guy who got really close, and yet he was still too far away. Imagine this, and then imagine the ending: he didn't quite make it in time. Whether it was from a lack of effort, or whether she could never be saved, but the fact was he didn't make it. I didn't make it. I didn't even come close.

Imagine all of this, and you will have my memory. Imagine all of this, and then you will remember her as I do. You will remember Rogue, and you will never forget.


	2. Shot Glasses and Guns

Author's Note: I forgot to mention something in the prelude. They are all normal in this fic. No mutants here. They are human…so therefore, I'm making Remy's eyes black. Kay? Kay.

* * *

_**She used her body to sell her soul

* * *

**_

Jacob Hart. She knew his name, his occupation as an independent businessman struggling for money, and that he had lagged so far in his payments that desperate measure must be undertaken. Bayville, so close to New York, was full of so many unfortunate souls. It just happened to be his time.

Her employers had given him warnings, of course. Extra time to pay his debts, warnings from the leaders of the underground organization that lent him the money, threats from metal men. But still, he had not paid back his debts and that led to her next paycheck.

Working for Eric Leinsherr wasn't the most favorable of income, though, and she was moving up faster in the ranks. She was now one of the top guns-for-hire, going by the only name she had ever called herself: Rogue. Fame among thieves was both useful and dangerous, but it didn't put money in her pocket or food in her stomach, so she had to undertake jobs like this. Jobs like Hart. Weak-minded people that wouldn't be missed once they were gone.

All these thoughts were floating aimlessly through Rogue's mind as she walked toward an apartment favored by college students. She blended with the slow flowing crowd, dressed in a spaghetti strap top covered by a mesh material that hid her arms from clear view, loose cargos and combat boots. An inconspicuous style, and only a few odd looks were given to her, possibly because of her hair. The two streaks of white alone were strange to sport.

The day was warm, summer approaching, but Rogue ignored the sun filtering through her clothes as she trudged on. Her ears blocked the sound of laughter, thoughts being the only noise she recognized. Her mind was completely focused on the pistol hidden beneath her cargos, easy to reach. She traveled in her mind's eye over and over the path she had memorized to Hart's apartment. Complex 13 B. The number seemed ironix. Today wasn't going to be his lucky day.

Her footsteps fell soundlessly on the stairs as she padded toward his apartment, Rogue's hair bouncing in front of her eyes in an annoying manner. The hall was deserted, doors to apartments lining every side.

As she reached 13 B her hand hesitated on the doorknob. Getting into the actual building was easy: just slip into the door when someone exited. But how to get into the actual room? Did the door system use tumblers, dead bolts? Judging by the lock it was a simple hair pin job. She removed a paperclip from her person and straightened it, hearing the satisfying click and watching the door swing open.

Rogue could hear the rushing of water through the pipes. Hart was obviously in the shower. Rogue took a seat on the couch and removed her pistol from its hiding place, placing one bullet into it. It would only take one.

Now came the waiting.

Time was of no importance to her. It could have been an hour, a day, or a decade before the sound of water stopped. More immeasurable moments passed before Hart emerged from his small apartment bathroom, waist wrapped loosely in a towel. His footsteps stopped as he saw Rogue sitting comfortably on his couch. She spoke calmly, apathetically.

"Do you have your payments?"

His eyes were fixed on the gun. "Not yet. Another week, please!"

"Sorry. Time's up."

Due to a loud stereo next door, no one heard the gun shot. Due to no one caring, no one saw an auburn haired girl exiting the building.

* * *

Poker faces. Every single one of them, except for the guy across from me. You could tell he wasn't happy at all with his hand.

I allowed myself my usual smirk. There was no way they were beating this, and I wouldn't have to go crawling to Leinsherr for extra time anymore. Lady luck had finally smiled on the Cajun. My mouth opened and a soft Louisiana dialect emerged.

"Dis be de las' hand, gen'lmen. Wat be de wager?"

The man who had looked troubled by the cards dealt him folded, forfeiting ten grand. There was no way I could back down now. A sly looking lawyer sipping gingerly on vodka slid a good amount of chips toward the cent, the tiny weasel of a kitchen boy that had joined us contributing with two small chips. A pathetic addition to the already surpassing amount, but it would do.

"You had better not be cheating, LeBeau…" Growled the lawyer irritably, eyeing me with suspicion through the cloud of smoke that came from his cigarette. I clutched a hand to my chest in mock horror.

"Meh, chea' ya, mon amie? No suh. I be as hones' as dey come." A lie was plastered behind my black eyes as I read the hidden marks on the shark cards. A straight flush and a full house was held in the digits of my opponents. Good cards on a common day, but this was the day that Lady Luck had smiled.

I waited for them to lay down their hands. The kitchen boy seemed to know that defeat was near the moment he eyed the flush, cheeks reddening and muttering something about needing to be in the kitchen. My lawyer friend laid a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down.

"Take your loss like a man." He turned his eyes on me. "I could say the same for you, LeBeau. Are you going to lay down your cards, or are you going to keep us waiting all day?"

I smirked and shrugged. "If'n you insis', mon amie…" With a sweep of my hand, the cards were laid down, and victory was mine. My hands had held a royal flush, beating the other two. "Game's over, gen'lemen."

Frowning in suspicion, Damien Vaughn, the lawyer, picked up my hand and examined it thoroughly, but finding no sign of foul play, replaced them at my hand. "A third win in a row, and this time the stakes had increased surpassingly…you must have luck on your hands." He stood and shook my hand, starting to turn away, while I gathered the money I had won and the other two departed.

Yes, luck was on my hands.

I turned and examined the nearly empty bar. Besides the usuals that seemed to never leave, it was deserted. The bartender wiped down the counter, rows of shining shot glasses behind him, the radio playing a rock tune in the background, distorted because it was turned down too low to hear properly. What to do to celebrate victory? I could buy myself a drink, but a gleam in Vaughn's eye had told me that it would be better if I didn't get completely drunk. Revenge was not unheard of in these parts.

Eventually my irrational side won the battle. I sat down on a barstool, waiting for the bartender to take notice of me. A nod was given to me as he turned his bored and uncaring eye to my presence, wordlessly asking what I would have. It didn't matter that I wasn't of age…I was a couple of years behind that mark, actually, but no one in this neighborhood cared how old you were, as long as you had the money.

"Give meh a double sho' of tequila, suh." He turned to begin mixing the drink, and I just waited, knowing that if I wanted to survive another day this would be the only drink I allowed myself. The first priority of a thief and con was to stay alive at all costs…and cheating at poker wasn't helping my predicament. As smart as Vaughn was, I felt sure he would have noticed the shark cards…lucky for me, they were well made.

My head turned at the small sound of a welcoming bells, a smirk appearing on my face as I watched a young woman enter, obviously a few years younger than me…two or three at the most. She had a cold air about her, but the body proportions were perfect: big breasts, wide hips, narrow waist, long legs. I was a single man…I could look if I wanted to.

Well, I could have if she hadn't glared at me like that.

As she noticed my smirk and stare, the girl who had entered turned her falcon like gray eyes on me and stared me down, eventually sitting down. The bartender seemed to know her order without her saying, as he immediately drew out a whiskey bottle and a shot glass. She waved off the shot glass and reached for the bottle instead.

Unfortunately for her, I had taken her glare as a challenge.

Staying where I was, a couple of barstools away, I laid some money down on the counter…enough to pay for her drink and mine. The bartender and the girl eyed the amount before them, before the bartender pocketed it, but the girl pulled out her wallet and slid some bills toward me.

"Do meh a favor, an' don't do meh any favors."

"It wasn' a favor, mon petite. It was a complimen'." A laugh was held in my statement, but she silenced it with another glare.

"Flattery won' getcha anywhere."

"My curren' status begs t' differ."

"Ah mean' with meh."

"Funny, dat's what I meant too." Giving a roguish smile, I watched her turn away with a smile. The bartender held a smirk too. He seemed to be enjoying himself…it didn't take long for him to join the conversation as well.

"You must've had one hell of a day, Rogue. Normally you don't take this from any guy."

"Normally Ah don' get a paycheck this fas'. Ah'm in a good mood." She answered in a false lighthearted tone, taking a swig of the whiskey bottle and then getting up. "An' that leads meh to leave. Gotta collect said paycheck." I had left the money where it was lying, but she made no move to go back and pick it up.

And neither did I.

The bell sounded as she exited. I had long since finished with my shot. Getting up to leave, the bartender eyed the money that had been left.

"You gonna get that?"

"Wasn' plannin' on it."

He shrugged and made to get the money, but a sudden idea occurred to me. Before the bartender could pocket the bills, I put my hand on them.

"On secon' thought, it'll give meh an' excuse to go see cher again."

The bartender gave me a look that told me plainly I was playing with fire.

Which was exactly what I was going for.

* * *

Now for the answers to the reviews.

**StarStar16:** You win! It's Remy.

**cable cajun**: Remy it is! As you just found out. And I'm glad you liked the fic so much, even though it was just the prelude and normally I hate the stuff I do in first person, so that's why I made this fic partially first person and partially third. I hope you enjoyed the second chapter as well!

**Demon Flame: **All you people are good at guessing that it's Remy! It is indeed Remy.

**Dark Spades: **No, no, not a one shot. I would have told you if it was, and it wouldn't make much sense if it was. But it's not. It's a chapter story. Yeah, chapter stories!


	3. Follow Instructions

**Author's Note: **Another of my stories that is making a comeback. Remember to review.

* * *

In every town they'd break her and pay

* * *

Guys like him were everywhere. They just wanted someone to fill there bed, and she didn't accept that kind of charity. She wasn't that kind of girl. Intimacy that lasted only one night...or even one minute...wasn't part of her plan, so she stayed away from all. At seventeen, she was the best marksman in the business, and she had no relationships to tie her down.

Plus, knowing Leinsherr, relationships would only give him leverage to make her do jobs without paying. Leinsherr was used to power. There was nothing worse than a tyrant that had full control. If he could find a way to keep Rogue under full control, then he would have conquered everything. As far as Rogue knew, she was the only wild card left. She worked for money, and once she had enough to pay off debts or keep herself afloat, she stayed off of marksmenship for a while.

She hesitated outside of the office building before entering. Just a bank, right? All for appearance, and not a very convincing one. Most knew that this was Leinsherr's area of town. If you made his list, this is where his goons would go first for instructions. If you were hunting for a list, this is the place you went to for it. Rogue walked past the desk and into an area that had a warning "under-construction" sign. The area here was dark and dank, hot because the air conditioning had been shut off. A lone elevator stood at the end of the hallway, with a sign that warned you of its broken prescence taped to the sliding doors. Rogue knew it wasn't broken. She slid a card out of her pocket and entered it into the slide through scanner next to the elevator doors. There was a small ding and the elevator opened. She pressed one of the only two buttons it contained...67th floor.

When the doors parted to let her go, the difference in the two floors was immeasurable. This was bordering on grandeur. Leinsherr couldn't help but show off, and since he had bought out all objective opposition...the press, the police, the courts...even if someone got up here by fluke, they wouldn't be able to act on their suspicions. A secretary filed papers in a bored manner. She was a sweet looking girl...what was she doing here? She probably didn't even know who she was working for. Leinsherr liked to hire secretaries that thought they were actually working for a bank.

The girl looked up and smiled when she saw Rogue. "Hey! You have an appointment?"

Rogue shook her head. "No, but he'll want to see me. Is he in a meeting?"

"Not at the moment. I can buzz you in if you'll give me your---miss, where are you going?" The secretary looked uneasy as she watched Rogue march toward Leinsherr's office. "You can't do that. I have to announce you first. Wait!" Rogue opened the door and walked in, seperating the secretary's voice from her ears as she closed the piece of wood again. Turning to face Leinsherr, she leaned against the door.

"Got a minute?"

"Since you cannot seem to understand how to knock first, Rogue, I suppose I will have to make a moment." The graying man replied, his icy grey eyes cutting through her in an instant. "Didn't we have a conversation about courtesy the last time?"

The intercom on his desk buzzed to life. "_I'm sorry, sir, but I couldn't stop her--"_

"It's quite alright, Katherine. We all seem to have trouble stopping her." Leinsherr sighed as he interrupted his secretary. "Make sure we are not interrupted for a few moments, Katherine."

_"Yes, sir."_

As the intercom went dead, Rogue shrugged. "If I was one for courtesy, I wouldn't be killing people for money."

Leinsherr leaned back in his chair, long thin fingers peaking together like a steeple as he smiled condescendingly at her. "Is that so? I suppose you've completed my last assignment. Why else would you be back here?"

An image of Hart's bloody corpse flooded her mind for a split second, but she shoved the thought from her mind. Like everything else that might bring back to life the conscience she had so long ago killed, she shoved it to the back of her mind to be burned later. "Hart's dead. No fingerprints left. I wiped the gun clean and put in his right hand. They'll think it was a suicide." She held up her gloved hands to indicate there was no room for mistakes in tagging someone else.

"Excellent." Leinsherr considered her for a few brief moment. "We had an agreed upon sum, did we not?"

"Five grand." She answered automatically. He raised an eyebrow. Now was the part where he tried to cheat her, and she had to haggle to get the money. Enough to pay her rent, fill her stomach, and put a little more in her stomach.

"I remember two grand, Rogue."

"It was five. Ah remember the agreement, Leinsherr." She answered in a soft growl.

"Tell you what. For you, I'll go to four." He slid the cash across the counter to her after counting it out, and she put it inside a purse she had brought with her. Anyone who dared steal from her was killed, almost instantly. She knew how to defend herself. Bayville wasn't a very big town, and her apartment was there, but she was in New York. New York was dangerous.

"You know, Rogue, we'd love to have you on the team permanently."

"Not a chance, Leinsherr." She turned to leave, but at that moment the door opened and the guy who had offered to pay for her drink in the bar was standing in her way, with Katherine bobbing nervously behind him.

"He wouldn't listen to me, sir, he insisted on just barging in. I told him you were in a meeting, but--"

The guy turned to her. "Easy, cher. Mr. Leinsherr is understandin' enough." He turned to Leinsherr and grinned a lopsided, roguish smile, then turned to Rogue. "Hello, mon amie. We met before, I tink."

"Unfortunately." Rogue replied emotionlessly. She could hear Leinsherr's chair squeak as he sat up. The glare shot over her head and pierced the guy in front of her.

"LeBeau, you should learn how to follow instruction. I told you not to come back here unless you had what you took."

"Bu' I did follow de instructions, mon amie. I surely did."

* * *

So who was she, this girl? And where would I find her again? A slight smirk grazed my slightly tan features as I brused my longish reddish brown hair out of my eyes. It had taken me a while to find that stupid card Leinsherr made all of his debtors and employees carry around, just to get to his office. Didn't he realize that everyone...well, just about everyone...in the city knew what that bank held? And yet it was the most frequented bank in New York. Some things just didn't make sense. Like why you would do business with one of the devils servants.

Of course, I had sold my soul too, right?

I gave my usual charming ways to the girl at the front desk. Another poor sap for Leinsherr's purpose. She didn't look old enough to be doing this sort of thing, and she had the sort of innocence on her face that told me she would never do anything wrong. Wouldn't drink and drive, wouldn't smoke or drink underage, wouldn't go for a one night stand, wouldn't swear...why the goody-goodies?

Because they would never suspect. And if they did, and turned in Leinsherr, the police wouldn't do anything. I mean, why would you arrest one of your major patriots?

"Hi there, cher." I said, walking up to the desk. "Mr. Leinsherr gotta minute for ol' Remy?"

She smiled a slow, shy smile. "He's in a meeting.You'll have to wait just a minute."

"Won' take bu' a minute, what I got to show 'im, mon amie. Remy be back in a minute." Setting off toward his office, I heard her raising and getting out of her chair.

"No, you can't. He said no interruptions, and I'll get fired. Please, sir just wait a minute."

Too late. My mind was on too many things. I had an agenda. Pay Leinsherr, find the girl, give her her money, get a date.

As I opened the door, I realized two of my agenda items had just been crossed off the list. That same girl was facing me as I opened the door, her face going from shock to annoyance. The secretary was bouncing on her heels behind me, obviously trying to find a way to save her way of getting an income. "He wouldn't listen to me, sir, he insisted on just barging in. I told him you were in a meeting, but--"

At the rate she was going, she was going to have a heartattack from explaining so fast. Poor girl. I decided to put her at ease. "Easy, cher. Mr. Leinsherr is understandin' enough." Of course, he wasn't, but he would be to employees that he didn't want to know the truth. I turned back to the auburn haired girl that was glaring at me with bored gray eyes. It was kind of cute, how angry she looked. "Hello, mon amie. We met before, I tink."

"Unfortunately." She replied with such apathy and sarcasm that I was amazed both emotions could fit in the sentiment. She was not the only one glaring at me. Leinsherr looked ready to throttle me. "LeBeau, you should learn how to follow instruction. I told you not to come back her unless you had what you took."

"Bu' I did follow de instructions, mon amie. I surely did." I walked past the girl and extracted the bills. "Everythin' I owe ya."

He sighed and counted the money, then finding the amount satisfactory, dropped his forhead into his palm and sighed once more. "Rogue, LeBeau...get out of my office. And next time, knock."

Both of us obeyed automatically. The one Leinsherr had called Rogue refused to look at me as we got onto the elevator.

"Ya lef' your money, cher."

"Not mah money. Ah was payin' you back. Ah told you not to do me any favors."

"It wasn' a favor." I smirked, watching her expression, which was growing angrier by the moment. I continued to press my luck. I mean, Lady Luck had been with me all the rest of the time. "So what're ya doin' tonigh'?"

"Slitting you're throat, if you don't shut up." She growled and walked out of the elevator as the doors opened. I persued.

Hey, I was making progress.


End file.
